Like an Angel
by GiorgiaKerr
Summary: There were tears running into her auburn hair. She was crying, she was exquisite. BB
1. Violin

**Spoilers: **None.

**Disclaimers: **Etc., etc.

**Author's Note: **Brennan's POV. What can I say; I like violins. Updated slightly for an FCG challenge: 15/11/2008

The Challenge:

1. Must appeal to one of the five senses. Pick one and cater to it while you write.

2. It must be about the end of any type of relationship.

3. Must follow the theme of passion (interpret as you will).

4. Must be a minimum rating of PG 13.

5. Must be Between 500 and 2,500 words.

* * *

The music swelled around me, became robust. It was no longer notes on a page or noise from speakers. It was alive. The music had lived through everything I had and more. Emanating from it was anger, love, hate, joy, serenity, confusion; passion.

Until it finally surpassed me, moving on from this world to a world inaccessible by the human psyche. A world too alive, and too dead, at the same time. Despite this, my heart beat to the rhythm of the music; my breathing shuddered, as if it wanted to cry; my brain screamed to leave my body.

And it was gone. The track had ended, bringing my high to an end. My elation and longing dropped, I felt empty and alone.

The next track began, and I found myself again being wound around the sound of the ethereal violin.


	2. Her

**Spoilers: **Nope, all figments of my (very bored and underused) imagination

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bones, angels, or the Catholic Church

**Author's Note: **Booth's POV. I've taken a little poetic liberty, here; I am fully aware that there is no was in Hell that Booth would speak like this.

* * *

I ran up the stairs, looking for her. Where was she? I called her name, received no reply. I heard a faint noise, droning, something like a mosquito you can't get rid of. I walked to her office, and there she was. I opened the door quietly.

Music was pouring out of the speakers, not too loudly, but loudly enough.

Was she asleep? I wasn't sure. But she looked... she looked like an angel. Like the angels painted, hanging in my church, watching me every minute with such beautiful eyes, watching me pray.

Pray for Parker, for the victims I saw every day. _For her_. Always, for her. She had a knack for getting in trouble, but now... Now, I couldn't picture her in danger. She was here, in her office, with me. Safe.

I would keep her safe, this beautiful sleeping angel in front of me. Always. I wish I could keep her always. But she wouldn't let me, I know. She's too... She's her. Strong, and willful, and... _breathtaking._

It felt odd, watching her like this. I knew I should announce myself; I owed her that much respect. But I couldn't bring words to my lips, couldn't break this spell she had over me.

The track ended and I heard her take a shuddering breath. There were tears running into her auburn hair. She was crying; she was exquisite.

And then the music started again.

_Like an Angel._


	3. Memory

**Spoilers: **Again, no.

**Disclaimer: **Meh.

**Author's Note: **Brennan's POV. I think I'll just keep switching until something actually happens...For the record, I have no idea where this is going. Reviewing is good for the heart, you know. Screw apples. Enjoy the third chapter!

* * *

As I lay on my couch, listening to the peaceful music, I cried. I wasn't someone who cried. When my mother was found, I cried. But Booth was there. And that was a different kind of crying. That was a sad-crying.

Now, I am not sad. As I lay on my couch, I am not sad. The music builds; and it is beautiful. More so than anything I've ever seen, or tasted, or touched, it is beautiful.

I see images. Every person I've identified: Darfur, Rwanda, Guatemala, D.C. Their faces float through my mind; and I remember them all. The violence hurt me then, and it still does, but now they are peaceful. They have been spoken for.

I know I don't believe in it. I don't think I ever have, nor will I in the future, but for a minute, they _know_. For one minute they are aware that I have fought for them, that someone helped them 'move on', as it would be put. They are apparitions of my memory, of the memory of their families, and their murderers.

_They are like angels. _


	4. Synchronicity

**Spoilers: **None.

**Disclaimer: **Booth's POV.

**Author's Note: **I'm so sorry it took so long to update this! I just wasn't sure whether or not to leave this, or to continue it. Oops. Sorry!

* * *

She began to hum along, reminding me again why she was so captivating. The music rose and fell, as did her chest; perfectly synchronized.

Then the music began to surge into a completely different pattern, and she went with it, allowing the music to drive her as the musician did his bow. Another violin joined the sound, and it became a competition, each vying for power, yet still they blended beautifully; it was one song, after all.

It was very much like us; these two violins struggling to remain apart and together at the same time, to get through to the end of the song without having to truly _end_ anything. I've always known that this was never a possibility, but there, looking at her, I could have sworn it was.

I did. I swore to myself and to God that I would protect this angel He'd sent to me, because to lose her was... unthinkable.

_My angel._


	5. Always

**Spoilers: **Blahdy-bloody-blah.

**Disclaimer: **Brennan's POV.

**Author's Note: **Okay, to make it up to you, here is the next (and final) chapter! It's nice to be doing this story again, actually, because it's hard to be concise in such a short amount of time. And according to my last English teacher, I'm not very good at that. So, enjoy:

* * *

As the second violin joined in, I thought of him. He was there, I knew. He had been there for a while, now. Normally, I would have become defensive; opened my eyes. I wasn't like me to cry, and less so in front of people.

But I couldn't. I found it impossible to open my eyes while this magnificent music ebbed around me. It has willed my eyes shut then sealed them. I think perhaps I didn't _want _to open my eyes, to physically _see_ him. I saw him in my mind's eye perfectly.

He was watching me; watching _over_ me. A 'Guardian Angel', he would call it.

A _protector_, as much as I hated it at first. As much as I _still_ hate it. But I can't hate him. That, I've never done. Not even at the start. He was irritating, and obnoxious, but he was _there_. Something I'd missed; craved.

I needed him, whether I wanted to or not. And he needed me. Why else would he protect me like he did, this Guardian Angel?

_My _Angel.


End file.
